


Rest for the Wicked

by wingeddserpent



Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Bonding, Canon Related, Families of Choice, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-12
Updated: 2011-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-14 17:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingeddserpent/pseuds/wingeddserpent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Those first few nights on Gran Pulse are the hardest. Minor spoilers to Chapter 11.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest for the Wicked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wallwalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallwalker/gifts).



> For the prompt: Intimacy without sex--the six main characters, those first few nights on Gran Pulse.

Though it’s long since been cleaned, she can still imagine the wolf’s blood on the blade. Silently, she slides her survival knife open and closed, and can picture herself a clumsy fifteen-year-old, constantly fiddling with her shining new gunblade.

Behind her, the fire crackles and Vanille whimpers a little in her sleep. Lightning keeps her eyes trained on the moving darkness outside of camp, her foot tapping with hardly contained unease.

All around, Pulse—Gran Pulse—rises, vast, unknown, and they’re so exposed here.

 _“Wake me up for second watch when Cocoon reaches that spot in the sky, yeah?”_

Fang had said it with a quick smile, one that on anyone else might have been termed goofy, but on the Gran Pulsian seemed more like a smirk.

Lightning glances up at her glimmering home above, and swallows. On Cocoon, there was a concept of size, of being a part of something. Down here? Even Cocoon seems tiny, insignificant. And the six of them? Even less important.

Somewhere outside of camp a creature she can’t identify releases a shrieking growl. She gets to her feet, one hand holding the knife, the other moving to the hilt of her gunblade. After a few moments, where nothing seems to be getting nearer, Lightning sits back down and rubs a shaking hand over her face.

Grass rustles behind her, and she stands and twirls—only to meet Snow’s throat with her dagger.

Spots dance across her vision, and she has to blink at the brightness of the fire before she can see his expression. There’s a smile on his face, a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Strained lines around his eyes and the way his gaze darts to-and-fro betray the fact he is no more relaxed than she.

“Sorry,” she murmurs and pulls the knife away.

Gingerly, he rubs at his neck and _shit,_ she left a mark. He shrugs. “Mind if I join you?”

“Can’t sleep?” Snow shakes his head, clenching his fists and then unclenching them again. “Come sit,” she says.

Eyes on the darkness outside camp, he sits closer to her than is, perhaps, necessary. Warmth radiates from him, she can feel it through his coat. He’s shaking exactly like she is.

“Pretty unreal,” she whispers and feels him nod.

Lightning frowns, remembers, and quickly shifts, glowing green for an instant; she heals the mark she left on him with Serah’s gift.

“Thanks,” he says in an undertone and pats her shoulder. “Mind if I...?”

Even in the darkness, Serah’s tear glimmers, and she shakes her head. “No. Go ahead.”

Despite the fact his words are hardly more than a breath of air, she can still hear everything he says. “It’ll be okay, baby,” he murmurs, “Don’t worry.”

She shifts, uncomfortably, and is just aware enough to have her gunblade out when she hears another sound. This time, though, she doesn’t almost attack a teammate. Sazh holds his hands up, in surrender, and asks, “Can I join you?”

Trying to calm her breathing and her heartbeat, she nods once. “Some party we’re having,” she mutters and sits down next to Snow again.

He tucks Serah’s tear back into his pocket and Lightning represses a sigh of relief. Sazh sits at their backs and pulls out his pistols, watching the firelight dance across the metal. The three of them breathe, and watch the darkness with more than a little paranoia.

It’s nice to know, even if Lightning doesn’t want to admit it, that they’re here. Being on watch alone... She flicks her survival knife open again and Sazh bumps her back with his shoulder. “Easy, kid. We’ll make it through this.”

Snow gently slides the knife closed and murmurs, “It’ll be alright, Light,” and she knows what’s coming before he says it. “We’re heroes—the heroes always win.”

She sighs just a little, and lets herself lean into the warmth.

*

Hope rolls over, curling in on himself. It’s nice to know he’s not the only one kept awake by... whatever is out there. Lightning, Sazh, and Snow lull into silence again, and Hope considers sitting up and going to join them, when someone’s hands latch onto his wrists. He startles.

Calluses brush against his skin, and he looks at Fang. Heat comes off her like no one he’s ever met, and he can see the glint of her teeth as she smiles.

“Easy,” she murmurs in a low voice. “Don’t be afraid.”

Hope shudders, and mutters, “Easy for you to say. You’re not afraid of anything.”

Her laughter comes on an exhale, and she glances over, to where he can feel Sazh’s gaze. Fang’s hands leave his wrists, and move to his back. Before he can think to stop her, she’s pulled him close, to her chest. Her heartbeat pounds an erratic rhythm—one he recognizes.

“If only,” she tells him, and that might be sadness in her tone.

Hesitating, he throws an arm over her, and feels Vanille stir as his hand brushes her shoulder. Both him and Fang still, waiting for Vanille to settle again. Absently, Fang’s hand goes to stroking his hair, while her other one rubs circles on his back.

“Don’t worry, kid,” she whispers, “I won’t let anything get you. Now sleep.”

Listening to the sound of her heartbeat, too fast but soothing nonetheless, his eyes eventually drift shut, and sleep takes him.

*

Fang hears the kid’s breath even out and lets out an exhale. Vanille’s fingers tighten on her sari, clinging, and she murmurs something.

Funny—they get home, and the first thing Vanille wants to do is sleep?

With a sigh, Fang tucks a strand of Hope’s hair behind his ear, and nearly grins at the way his grip on her tightens. Cute kid. On the other side of the fire, she hears grass rustle and glances over.

Sazh moves to the fire pit and then uses his fingertips and a little bit of power to burst the flame to life again. He glances at her, and he grins. What a sight she must be—Hope in her arms, Vanille curled at her back. Damn, maybe she’s going soft after all.

But she knows what it’s like, to be a stranger in a land that isn’t yours. And she, unfortunately, had no one to hold her, no one to tell her it was going to be alright. Poor kid shouldn’t have to sleep alone, afraid of the beasties he’s feared all his life. Not when he doesn’t have to. “Hey, Fang,” Sazh whispers, so he won’t wake Hope and Vanille, “Mind if I take your watch? I won’t sleep either way.”

“Old man, I’m not movin’ from this spot til I have to. I’m comfortable right where I’m at.”

He laughs quietly and then moves to sit near her. “Vanille didn’t talk much about you... Wanna swap some stories by the fire?”

Taking care not to shift Vanille or Hope, Fang tilts her head to look at him. She lets herself grin. “Were I to make a guess, I’d say you were fishing for information on Gran Pulse,” she murmurs, and glances over at Vanille, as the girl whines a little.

“Considering we don’t know anything besides what Sanctum’s told us?” Snow cuts in. “Yeah. Anything would be nice.”

All three of them watch her now, and she sighs. Hope’s fingers tighten and his face presses into her chest. “Gran Pulse is nothing like Cocoon. The people and monsters are fiercer, the land itself stretches so far that no one’s ever seen all of it... And our Fal’Cie, they don’t just... give us what we need. We have to earn it.”

“So we’re going to run into people,” Lightning murmurs, and Fang can’t help but smirk at the sound of her playing with her knife.

Jumpy girl.

“Surprised we haven’t run into any yet, as a matter of fact...” She frowns, thoughtfully, and gazes in the direction of Oerba. “Real surprised. We’re on Ja’naka land, and they don’t take lightly to visitors...”

Sazh and Lightning and Snow all crouch near the fire, looking at her, waiting, and Fang glances up at the viper’s nest, glittering as ever. At her back, Vanille whimpers and Fang murmurs at her, in the old language, in the one they’d spoken at home, and Vanille falls silent again, the sari fisted in her grip.

“It’s been... What? Five hundred years since the War? Maybe things’ve changed,” she says slowly.

They let the silence hang for a moment, let it build, as she looks around at the darkness, at the fire, at the three sets of gleaming eyes that watch her desperately for an answer to their fears and Fang looks finally at Hope, curled in her arms. “I dunno. Just gotta be on our guard. People on Gran Pulse... They’re a strong people. We don’t have your numbers—we can’t have your numbers. So all of us have to pull our own weight and then some.”

Lightning flicks her knife open again, its blade gleams in the firelight; absently, Snow rams his fists together; Sazh’s fingers twitch, his hands jolting unconsciously towards his pistols.

With a short laugh—oh, but not being the only one afraid shouldn’t reassure her as much as it does—Fang says, “Don’t you lot worry. I’m meaner and stronger than anything we’ll run into out there. I’ll keep ya nice and safe.”

“Yeah?” Sazh asks, “How about protecting us from one of those... you called it an adamantoise, right?”

Snow and Sazh both laugh at her, while Lightning smirks a little, or maybe just thinks about smirking, which, for her, might be the same damn thing. Tightening her grip on Hope, she grins. “If that’s what it takes? You can be damn sure I’ll do it.”

They look at her some more, and then Snow laughs harder. “Who knew, Fang. You do care.”

“Don’t get used to it—I can still kick your ass, Snow.”

While he protests, still grinning, Lightning and Sazh sit beside each other, shoulders touching, eyes outward on the darkness again. The nervous energy is still there—with Sazh’s twitching fingers, and the clean sound of Lightning’s dagger opening and closing—but a lot of the tenseness is gone.

Fang can’t help but grin.

After so long, she’s finally home.

*

Light spreads slowly over camp, and he glances at the two sleeping forms and Fang. With a grin, Fang winks at him, and then goes back to staring at Cocoon, her brows furrowed. Sazh shrugs, then turns to Lightning and Snow. “Think we should let them sleep?” Snow asks.

Lightning hesitates and finally puts her knife away. “We need to get moving. The Fal’Cie don’t care how tired we are—once the eyes open, it’s game over. Sleeping won’t save us. Or Cocoon.”

With a groan, Sazh stands and rolls his shoulders. He moves to where Vanille is curled at Fang’s back and then kneels, to shake her quietly awake. “Hey,” he says, calmly, after she opens her eyes.

She half takes Fang’s sari with her when she sits up and Fang laughs, even as she prods Hope to consciousness. “Morning,” Fang tells him, and he looks at her groggily through his bangs.

“Right, morning,” he mumbles and then frowns, looking at Fang like he can’t quite remember why he’s there.

Face reddening suddenly, he scoots away, then rubs his arms at the sudden chill. Sazh can’t quite help the grin, and Vanille peers at him suspiciously. “Old man, you just wanted to wake me up!”

“What? I... No... It was...” he scratches the back of his head—way to put your foot in your mouth, Katzroy. “Soldier girl says it’s time to get moving.”

Vanille glances at Lightning, who’s analyzing the food situation with an expression that suggests he better tighten his belt. “Right...” Vanille says, and then trails off, looking into the distance for a moment, across the vast Pulsian— _Gran_ Pulsian—landscape.

Suddenly bright, she grins, and all but flings herself at Fang. “We’re home!” she laughs, and Fang laughs with her, and lifts her, twirling.

Even Lightning turns to watch, with an almost-smile curving her mouth. The two Pulsians—Gran Pulsians—laugh a little longer, clinging to one another, with sunlight glinting off them. They pause after a time, and simply look at each other, and then Fang pulls Vanille close, and murmurs something into the girl’s hair in a language that none of them understand, but don’t need to.

 _I missed you; I missed you; I missed you. We’re home._

Sazh smiles and turns away from their moment, turns to where Hope is sitting, opening and closing his hands, and watching the two of them with something like longing.

“Hey, cheer up, kid,” Sazh says, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Seems scary right now, but we’ll figure it out. We have to.”

With a sigh, Hope stands up, and moves over to where Lightning is standing and tries to make himself useful. Frowning, Sazh turns to Snow, and the younger man just gives a helpless shrug. Kids. What can you do?

The blue tear glints in Snow’s gloved palm and Sazh gives a slight nod. “Tell her I say hello, and that I’ll be glad to meet her,” he says and Snow glances down, sheepish.

Chocobo warks happily and flies out to meet the world, to greet the sun, and taste the grass. Fang and Vanille blink to reality and step back from each other and then watch the chick flit about with smiles. Gently, Vanille tucks a strand of hair out of Fang’s face.

With a rueful grimace, Lightning hands out soldier’s rations, chalky sticks of nutrients that taste like... Well, even Snow winces. “We’ll have to find real food sometime soon,” Lightning says, and takes a bite.

All of them fall silent, eating as fast as they can, trying to escape the taste of ground vitamins and protein and whatever else keeps the military running. It doesn’t take long before they’re finished—because disgusting as the stuff is, it’s better than hungry bellies.

“Let’s get moving,” Lightning says, flicking her gunblade out.

Hope watches the motion with something like longing, and pulls out his boomerang, eyeing it with slight contempt. Warking happily, Chocobo flies to the boy and lands on his shoulder, pecking at his earlobe.

“Hey,” Hope cracks a grin, but holds a laugh in just barely. “Don’t.”

They move out into the vastness of Gran Pulse, and Sazh feels his breath catch. It’s one thing to see it at night, another to witness it in daylight. As far as he can see, there are sprawling grasslands, jagged mountains, uneven hills, and monsters larger than some houses he’s come across.

It feels like flying, on land. Even in the highest ship, even aboard the _Palamecia_ , Cocoon had never seemed as large as the tiny chunk of Gran Pulse he can see from this one spot.

Everyone walks in silence, breathing ragged and awed, even Fang and Vanille are silent, because how long has it been since they’ve be home?

Ahead, a behemoth roars a battle cry, and Vanille grins. “Mine!” she calls, and runs forward before Fang can reach out to stop her, and Snow whoops, free and loud and young, and follows.

Lightning, with her typical surliness, huffs and darts after, gunblade out. But there’s an excitement to her movement, a gleam in her eyes that suggests maybe—just maybe—she’s as happy as they are to finally have something real to fight after a sleepless night in a strange land.

With a toss of her head, Fang mutters darkly to herself, ill-humor reading clear as the Gran Pulsian sun she loves.

Quickly, Chocobo flits over to her, and nips playfully at one of her dark braids, and a crooked smile flashes across her face. “Well, aren’t you an ornery one?” she tilts her head, going cross-eyed trying to get a good look at it.

Sazh laughs. “Careful,” he warns, “Don’t hurt yourself.”

All three hear the behemoth roar, and Fang grimaces. Hope glances at her—and a sudden biting sharpness appears in his green eyes; he stops altogether, and whirls to face her; Fang halts and raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah?” she asks.

“Fang...” his words catch somewhere in his throat, and he glances down at the sunlight glinting off his boomerang. “You don’t have to baby me. I’m not a kid. I can... I can take of myself.”

For a few seconds, she just blinks at him, and then she tilts her head to the side, a frown tugging at her mouth. “Lemme guess, this is for last night, yeah?”

He nods, once, a flush rising up into his cheeks.  His fingers tighten on his boomerang.

“So you’re mad because I... wanted to help?” She looks at him like he might be insane.

“You don’t have to look out for me!” he bursts out, and glares at her. “I don’t need you to take care of me! I’m not a kid!”

Hope takes a deep breath in, and doesn’t notice the other three come back and stand behind him; Sazh catches Lightning’s eye and grimaces. With a sigh, Fang puts a hand on her hip, and looks at him, and if her shoulder’s slump a little, Sazh doubts the kid will ever notice. “Look here, Hope, I didn’t sleep with you ‘cause I thought you couldn’t take care of yourself, alright? I just... I remember what it’s like, to sleep alone in a place you’ve never been before. Would’ve been nice to have someone there. Thought I’d give you the luxury. I’ll remember for next time.”

Before anyone can stop her, can think to stop her, she moves on ahead, with her red spear in hand.

Hope doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes, but won’t budge until everyone else has moved to follow Fang; gently, Snow pats Hope’s shoulder, and then goes onward. A ragged breath comes from Hope, and Chocobo trills with worry, and Sazh shakes his head and moves on after the others.

Kids. What can you do?

*

It’s really a surprise. Well, maybe not a huge one logically, but illogically, it’s really a surprise. “Guess we’re stopping,” Snow says and kneels next to Lightning’s crumpled form.

“Whoa, whoa. What just happened?” Sazh asks, looking down at her. “She was fine a second ago.”

“She over-extended,” Vanille says, a deep seriousness settling into her green eyes.

She comes to stand near Snow, bracing herself against his shoulders so she can peer down at Lightning. When he taps Lightning’s arm gently, she doesn’t even stir, her breath rising and falling evenly, but shallowly.

“Well fuck,” Fang mutters, and comes to kneel beside Snow. “Stupid girl, how in the hell did she manage...?”

Not meeting anyone’s eyes or looking at the fallen Lightning, Hope murmurs, “This happened before, in the Whitewood... I think she’s only slept twice since then...”

Snow sighs, and lifts Lightning into his arms; her head lolls back, but she doesn’t wake. “Typical Lightning,” he mutters and then stands, “So where are we making camp?”

“This way,” Vanille all but sings and then skips off in the direction of a red outcropping.

The rest follow, with Hope taking up the rear, watching Lightning, and twisting his hands together. Calmly, Sazh pats him on the shoulder and the boy winces.

It takes only a few minutes to lay out their bedrolls, and Snow lays Lightning down gently, and sits down beside her. “I’ll take first watch,” he says.

“Second,” Vanille says, grinning, watching as Fang unwraps her sari, and sets her spear next to her.

“Then I’ll take third,” says Sazh, making a fire. “The rest of you should try to get some sleep.”

Fang grins. “Way ahead of you. I’m beat.”

She stretches and curls up, her dark hair falling over her face. Quickly, before she can actually fall asleep, Vanille comes out and sits, and then pulls Fang’s head onto her lap. Half-opening an eye, Fang gives a crooked grin.

Hope lies down away from everyone else, but near enough to Lightning that he can protect her if he needs to. His eyes shut firmly, but he tosses back and forth, and Snow sighs. Poor little guy, saying your sorry is never an easy thing. He glances down at Lightning, who’s frowning in her sleep and, man, she doesn’t even relax in her dreams.

“She always like this, baby?” he asks quietly, pulling Serah’s tear from his pocket.

It’s warm to the touch and glows a little, and he sighs because she doesn’t really answer his question. He’ll just have to ask when she wakes up—along with what Lightning’s real name was.

Beside the fire, Sazh yawns, grumbles something that sounds like a complaint about his age, and stretches out, watching Cocoon overhead.

Snow puts Serah’s tear back into his pocket and then looks over at Vanille. “Gonna sleep?”

“Thought I’d keep you company,” she says. “It’s hard to be by yourself.”

“You and Fang both say that a lot. Spend much time alone?” he asks, fiddling with the buckles on his gloves.

Thoughtfully, Vanille undoes one of Fang’s braids, and begins to re-do it blithely. “I guess you could say that. Fang and I are orphans. We were fed and clothed, but life was hard, and the adults were always preparing for War. Didn’t have anyone to look after us, so we looked out for each other.”

“Orphans?” Snow exhales a little, looks down at Lightning, and then glances over at Hope. “Funny, how that works out, huh?”

“Oh?” she tilts her head to the side, still braiding Fang’s hair.

“Guess almost all of us are orphans. Hope has his father, but...” he trails off, flexing his fingers, “And Light... Serah said they’d been alone for over six years... I never knew my parents... Grew up in an orphanage in Eden.”

Vanille frowns and examines him. “That must have been tough,” she says, smoothing Fang’s hair out of her face.

“I don’t think about it very often. I met Gadot there, though, so it wasn’t all bad,” he says and grins, but he looks up at Cocoon, and his brows furrow for an instant. “What was it like? In Oerba?”

With a thoughtful glance at the fire, Vanille says, “It wasn’t... _bad_. Our Village looked after everyone, made sure we were all fed. There was never quite enough to eat, but we didn’t starve, even in winter. But everyone was always busy—hunting, farming, building. We had to help, and we spent a lot of time by ourselves, especially at night.”

“Guess there are sad stories everywhere,” Snow says and he puts his hands behind his head.

“Cheer up,” she tells him, smiling. “Just because a story starts sad, doesn’t mean it has to end that way.” Her fingers dance lightly across Fang’s cheek and the other Gran Pulsian shifts slightly in her sleep, clutching the fabric of Vanille’s skirt.

He grins and looks up at Cocoon again. “Yeah. Just can’t lose hope,” he says, and both of them glance at the sleeping Hope with conspirator’s grins.

A pause, and they both laugh, and maybe they are swirling into a realm of madness, but hey, they’re alive, right? And so long as that remains true, maybe they can achieve what they set out to do. Maybe they can find what’s really important. Maybe, just maybe, they can find freedom again. Snow smiles at Vanille, who smiles in response, and they lull into a comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of the others breathing and the sounds of the beasts outside camp.

Somehow, fear doesn’t course through his veins like the night before, and he glances down at the sleeping Lightning, and wishes there were a way to smooth the unhappiness from her face.

Slowly, thoughtfully, he pulls the tear out of his pocket again, and places it in Lightning’s open hand. Her fingers curl around the precious crystal, and if he imagines her frown relaxing, well, he’s going to keep his fantasies. Snow turns his gaze back to Cocoon and lets out a breath. Someday, someday everything will work itself out. It has to.

*

Morning spreads over camp, and Lightning wakes up and glances around. “Shit,” she grimaces, and then frowns. “Serah?”

The tear in her hand glimmers and Vanille can’t help but giggle, brushing Fang’s hair out of her face again. “Morning,” Vanille greets.

Lightning looks at Snow, fast asleep not far from her, and her face softens, just a little, and then she turns back to Vanille and gives a slight nod. “Morning,” she says and then she slips the tear back into Snow’s pocket.

He doesn’t stir; Vanille giggles again.

A little ways off, Hope sits up with a yawn. His eyes lock with Lightning’s, and he flushes a little, and then he comes over. “Feeling better?” he asks, and averts his eyes. “You should sleep more often.”

“Hope,” Lightning says quietly.

He looks up at her, then away again.

“If you apologize to Fang,” her voice is gentle but firm. “I’m sure she’d understand.”

Hope sits down and bows his head a little and mutters under his breath, “Okay.”

Hesitantly, because Vanille knows how often Fang sleeps and how hard she’s been working, Vanille shakes Fang and says, “Morning, it’s time to get up.” Fang moans a little, and scrunches her eyes tight. “C’mon. Don’t be grumpy.”

With a groggy clumsiness, Fang unclenches her hands from Vanille’s skirt and sits up, blinking at the sunlight with something less than amusement. “What?” she asks, and glances at where Sazh is cooking wolf meat over the fire; she turns back to Vanille with a scowl that clearly indicates that the food isn’t ready and that is _not_ okay.

Vanille giggles, and even Lightning releases an almost-chuckle.

“...Fang?” Hope’s voice comes out small and scratchy.

She turns to him and she blinks at him a few times. And then she waits for him to continue. He clears his throat, and then looks down at his hands, then back up at her. “Fang... I’m sorry.” He clasps his hands together. “I... I just...”

Fang moves to him, and taps him lightly on the head with her fist. “I understand. I used to be the exact same way.”

Face red, he nods once, and then stands up and retreats. Lightning watches him go, fondly, and then looks at Fang. “Thanks,” she says softly and then follows after him.

With a smile, Vanille wraps her arms around Fang from behind.

“Maybe you _are_ getting soft,” she teases and Fang laughs.

“If you can’t be soft with your family,” she says, a grain of seriousness in her tone, “who can you be soft with?”

Holding her tighter, Vanille buries her face into Fang’s hair. They stay like that until Sazh calls everyone for breakfast, and they eat around the fire, like they used to in Oerba all those years ago. And it hadn’t occurred to her, she hadn’t realized before Fang had said something but—

They’re a family. A strong, slightly-dysfunctional family, but a family all the same.

Vanille grins, and sits down next to Sazh and spends the morning teasing him about his age, and he scowls and acts upset, but, somehow, she thinks that he doesn’t mind. And all the while, Lightning is teaching Hope some of the finer points of dagger use, and Fang is trying to coax Snow into an arm wrestling match.

The Gran Pulse sun shines down on them, and they’re smiling.

At some point, they’ll have to remember their quest, have to remember that they’re weeks, days, minutes, seconds away from becoming monsters or crystals, will have to remember that they’re missing a sister, a lover, a son.

But for now, they sit, and they laugh, and they are together. And it’s more than enough.

 


End file.
